


...Peter and Rocket ran into a trap

by Pugrii_writes_2453



Series: What if... [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Depression, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Guilt, Hurt Peter Quill, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Peter Quill Needs a Hug, Protective Gamora (Marvel), Protective guardians, Rocket needs a hug, Survivor Guilt, Torture, Yikes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25529302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pugrii_writes_2453/pseuds/Pugrii_writes_2453
Summary: Peter and Rocket just wanted to enjoy their holiday. Sitting stil and doing nothing for a week, however, just wasn´t for them, so one little mission couldn´t hurt. Right?well maybe it does
Relationships: Gamora/Peter Quill
Series: What if... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849735
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Lost and found

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta: c_c_cherry!
> 
> This just happened. I don´t know where it came from....enjoy!
> 
> Also I have a discord server: https://discord.gg/sf5jV9p

Rocket couldn't take it anymore. His voice was starting to sound more and more hoarse from all the screaming he was doing. All he wanted was for them to stop, just stop. Wishing he hadn´t pretended to be the captain of the Guardians, he again tried to reach for Quill to simply show him he was still here, that he would make it, but had to retract his hand when one of the assholes tried to step on it. 

Thinking that they would leave Peter alone and focus on him backfired so hard it made Rocket want to throw himself into the cold dark abyss of space. Clutching the bars of his cage and pressed his head against them, he suppressed a sob. This wasn’t fair. It wasn't fair! None of this was fair! Rocket would flarking love to shove a grenade up their asses and shoot the living shit out of the bastards! This wasn’t fair! 

It just wasn't fair that the only chill solo-mission the two were able to go on was a trap! They just wanted to do something (even though they were technically on vacation) so that they wouldn't go crazy. This just had to happen and it just wasn't fair. 

He started screaming again for them to go to hell, they would regret ever thinking about hurting their captain, that they should just please, *please* stop. 

Yes, he was begging. It had been three days. Three fucking days and they wouldn’t stop. 

Neither of them had been able to get any sleep because the bastards made sure they couldn't. Rocket wished he could turn away and stop watching them tilt Quill's head back and pouring water on his covered face, wishing he could just stop hearing his pathetic gurgling and gasping for air. 

After the first day, both of them had known that talking back and being rude would only make their situation worse. The worse thing for Rocket was that Quill was paying the price as the angry red marks on his back were able to show. The second day came and some other guy came in and had a real field day with punching and kicking the living shit out Peter while mocking both of them. His words still rung in the raccoon’s ears, but most of all the untrue things that he had said about Peter. None of it was true. None of it!

They finally put the bucket away and removed the cloth from Quill's face, but Rocket knew better than to be relieved. They put it down. They didn't leave. One of the men, a Xandarian, handed the bigger one, Rocket had forgotten what he was but he was ugly and purple and had horns, a whip. 

Great. 

Again he tried to intervene, to tell them something to no avail. Petey only smiled at him, at least he tried to. It looked so sad. They had twisted his arms back and he had to kneel on the ground. The loud crack of the whip splitting the air and then hitting Peters back made Rocket jump. There was nothing he could do to make it stop because what in the goddamn hell did he know about the Nova-corps security systems and plans? How was he supposed to know? 

After what felt like an eternity, they stopped and Quill sagged visibly, panting and gasping for air. 

"I got a better idea,” the purple one said gruffly to Rocket, "Hope you like it." 

They left the room while the Xandarian chuckled because he knew. Using the opportunity, Rocket again tried to reach for Peter. The two of them just stared at each other for a second. Rocket didn´t know what to say. He just started again mumbling "I’m sorry" over and over again. 

Quill tried to tell him something through the gag but only managed to fall into a coughing fit. The worst part about the whole torture thing was always the waiting; the waiting for the next bad thing to happen. The blue guy came in again. Both Peter and Rocket’s eyes lit up when they saw the Zune with headphones. Only for a second, though, because Rocket realized that grin meant nothing good. 

When the bastard came closer to the captain he tried to jerk his head away but of course that didn't matter shit. 

"What’re ye doin?" Rocket asked panickingly. He had a very bad feeling about this.The blue guy grinned and put the headphones on Quill. 

"Enjoy,” he said before turning on the Zune on full volume and leaving. Rocket physically flinched away from the source and put his hands on his ears to protect them from literal assault. Quill shook his head violently from side to side trying to get it off. The music was unbearably loud already from where he was; he couldn't even imagine how Quill must feel. It hurt his sensitive ears and he had to get used to every inch he got back closer to Quill, who had started screaming at this point. 

There was nothing Rocket wouldn´t have done to make it stop...but it didn´t after an hour of this new dasting torture and Quills attempts to get them off and screaming there was a small buzz and it stopped. 

There was a time where there was nothing but silence. Sweet, sweet silence. The headphones had died, thank the gods. Hope bubbled up in Rocket's chest. 

Of course, it was short-lived. One of the bastards came in and exchanged Quill’s own headphones with ones that went straight into your ear. Rocket really couldn't take it anymore. The Zune was back on full volume and the headphones were too. His ears were ringing and every single beat was pounding at the back of his skull. 

There was nothing he wanted to do more than stop this endless cycle of songs. 

"Fox on the run", "Hooked on a feeling" and "I want you back" were forever stained and so many more. They were just waiting for all 300 flarking songs to play before they came in again to demand answers, weren't they? 

He hurt all over when Peter had been the one to get the living shit beaten out of him, when it was Peter who had been flarking whipped, when it was Peter who got waterboarded and was now getting his brain blown out with his own fucking tunes, why wasn’t he doing something? Rocket should be doing something. 

His vision was blurry and it took him a little to refocus when he looked up. Nothing had changed. Quill was still restrained with his arms twisted behind his back. Kneeling on the dirty ground, sticky with red terran blood. The gag hadn't been removed even after he had stopped screaming about an hour ago. 

He had probably blown his vocal cords because Rocket could swear he still looked like he was screaming but nothing came out. And that was even worse. The gag was fixated on his head so that, even if Quill wasn't holding it up Rocket, could still look him in the face. 

It was cruel. Just plain cruel. He recalled watching the hopeful look on Peter's face fade into horror when they had brought in his Zune, then he had thought the first hour was the worst when Peter had tried to get them off of his head, screaming and even flarking crying (crying for someone's sake!)

The second hour must have been the worst when he almost threw up (if there had been something in his stomach) and just silently cried (or not silent? It was too loud to know), not once opening his eyes to see Rocket mouthing his support, his love and most of all guilt. He didn't know how sorry he was.

He took it back. The third hour was the worst when the man decided to just sag forward and stop responding completely.

Yes, the Starlord had given up. Both of them had known there was no way that they could get out of there without help. Rocket didn’t know if Peter knew that they would come. They would come and save them because Rocket really couldn't deal with this anymore. 

He couldn't keep watching the life—the spark fade from Petey's eyes with every hour, every minute, every second that passed by. 

It was a little over the fourth hour when Petey had gone completely unresponsive and the spark died. His eyes were dark and half-lidded, drool dropped onto the ground and blood caked the sides of his face. Rocket hadn't noticed that they hit him in the head at those spots but then again he had been busy screaming his lungs out for them to stop and just take him instead. 

He was horrified. This wasn't the Starlord he knew, because the Starlord he knew was smiling or at least looking smug all the time. The Starlord he knew didn't have this defeated and unbearably sad look on his face. He looked almost empty, almost dead, and—no.

No. Rocket couldn´t go down that path. It was scaring the dast shit out of him. Quill wasn't supposed to just be hanging there. He was supposed to be making witty remarks and cheering Rocket up, like he always did. He was supposed to have this spark, this fire behind his eyes. The kind of spark that made them all jittery with energy and made them sing along, that made them happy and forget about the sad things in life for a second.

At this point, Rocket wasn’t even trying anymore to hide the fact that he was crying. He wasn´t even trying to stop the crushing emotions from overflowing from him. Everything that he had suppressed over the years. 

He was a master at that. 

Hiding everything underneath a layer of wit and sarcasm and just plain rudeness. Before, he thought there was nothing that hadn't been done to him before that would make him break but now he was a sobbing mess, desperately trying to reach his captain in his cage...failing miserably. The worst part was that he couldn't tear his eyes away from Peter. He looked terrible. Bruises all over and his back open, still dripping onto the ground. 

Not to mention the way his face had gone slack and didn´t show the slightest bit of emotion. The smell was horrible too. Rocket's hand just laid there outside of the cage after trying to give Peter some sort of comfort but having to give up.

He was so far out of it he didn't notice the screams of the kidnappers from down the hall, he didn't notice the explosions, he didn't notice how the ground shook. He didn't notice how the door flung open. He didn't notice the guardians storming in. He didn't notice Groot breaking the cage and putting himself between him and Peter. He didn't notice strong arms carrying him outside. He didn't notice passing the dead bodies of their captors and getting onto the ship nor passing out. 

All he noticed was the moment Peter gave up. The moment his eyes widened in shock and despair just for a second before all emotion was sapped out of them. 

***

To say that Gamora was seething was an understatement. She was absolutely burning with rage because how dare they—how DARE they take away their teammates—family, their family—and even think for one second that they would get away with it. 

How dare they? They were even more stupid that they looked like the ragtag band of stonebrained assholes. None of them would survive the freaking night. The next day would arise and the universe would be a little bit cleaner from filth like that. 

It had taken them at least four hours to notice that they were unusually long gone. It was supposed to just be a way for both of the restless guardians to do something and calm down, so they could enjoy their little vacation a little bit more. They had gotten very fidgety and annoying, so they went on a simple "fetch"-mission. 

After four hours and they had not come back, Groot had made multiple attempts at telling them that something was wrong but they noticed it too late. They were already gone. It had taken them even longer to find them. At this point, it had been three days but they were finally here. 

The days without sleep and filled with worry were pushed aside. This was war. This was their demise. Her sword ready in hand when they landed she put on her grim "your-gonna-do-down" face, as Peter called it. Drax didn't look any better than her, his swords had been sharpened to perfection. 

Groot was landing the ship but she knew he was ready to crack bones. Mantis really wasn´t up for the destruction of their enemies. She liked to watch the others take care of that and was ready to comfort their missing team members. 

Immediately after they landed they stormed the building without any plan, their planner wasn´t with them right now, so how would they be able to have one? It was some old dungeon-like warehouse on an abandoned mining planet. They would have an easy game so they stormed right in. 

An alarm was sounded at the time they cleared the first room. Drax was in a full-on blood rush and there was no stopping him. Good, she thought and grinned. There were no real enemies for them. They went through them as if they were paper. Their screams and useless attacks meant nothing to her. They had taken two of the people out of her family, she had spent a long time trying to get them. 

Those two were annoying, loud and obnoxious, especially with their stupid bickering, but Gamora loved them both. Peter in a...different way than Rocket—than anyone else. She wasn´t sure what it was but both didn't deserve more shit to be dealing with. Rocket was open-ish about it. He made it clear when he had enough but didn't want to talk ever about it. Peter was way more closed off but she knew he had issues, a lot of them. Neither of them deserved anything bad happening to them. It wasn´t fair. 

She hadn't been there and hadn't been able to help them. There was nothing she could have done to help them in the three days. So she took out all of the pent up frustration, anger, fear, and simple confusion on her enemies. It hit them hard. No one was even coming close enough to her so that they could hit her. Drax was yelling and beating on some more fiends. Mantis was scanning with Groot for their friends. Gamora didn´t stop until the last one of them was dead but they still couldn't locate Rocket and Peter. 

No one even spoke a word, only Mantis concluded that the atmosphere was screwing with the signal so they would have to search manually, which they ended up doing. An hour ago a sinking feeling had settled in the back of her head. With every step, it just got worse. It dove down into the pit of her stomach and was getting colder and colder and it kept twisting. She wanted it to stop. She wanted them back to tell them how much she cared for them.

Blood soaked her clothes and as she stalked down the hall she could hear it dripping from her sword. There was something else she was hearing...music? With her advanced hearing, she was the first to pick it up. They all shared a strange look. They knew the song: "Come and get your love.” 

They burst through the door once they reached it. The sight almost made Mantis throw up and if Gamora was honest, she wanted to too. It broke her heart to see Rocket sobbing at the bottom of a small cage trying desperately to get to Peter and—oh moons, Peter. She rushed to him and ripped the headphones off. 

Drax didn't waste a second and broke the chains, while Groot got Rocket out of the cage and Mantis calmed him down. The wounds on Peter's back looked bad and she was sure some of them were infected. The many bruises all over his body were multiple shades of blue, black, purple, and green. Blood caked his skin and neither Rocket nor Peter looked as if they slept or eaten since they came here.

"Let's go home, okay?" she asked Peter while tracing his cheekbones with her thumbs. 

"Yes, we are going home now,” Mantis said to the cooped up Rocket. 

***

They had gotten to the ship safely. Drax had carried Peter as gently as possible. No one would tell him, but everyone had seen him cry. The spark in both of the taken one’s eyes had gone, only that Rocket had passed out and Peter seemed to be half-conscious. They had put both in the medbay to rest and bandaged the two of them up. Luckily, they managed to stop any of the wounds to get infected. 

Half of Peter's body was now covered in some sort of bandage. They were able to clean the worst of it all off of them. Groot had insisted on putting a small and neon pink bandaid on his nose for a small cut. It was adorable, but no one was in the mood to comment. Rocket luckily, Gamora had no idea what she would do if he too had been injured, had been physically unharmed. That didn't mean that no damage was done. 

She knew first hand what torture did to a person. She knew because she had been through it and she knew what it felt like when one had to watch someone you loved go through it. It hurt. It hurt a lot and there would be bad days and very bad days. The two of them were strong, she knew that but from what they could gather Rocket was forced to watch everything that happened to Peter. 

They physically assaulted him and denied both of them food, water, and sleep. Then there were the prolonged episodes of waiting, that must have felt like hours and the headphone thing. The sound of (her) Peter's shoulder joints, the loud crunch, still rang in her ears forming a gruesome song of lonely nights together with Rocket's wails.

Defeated she leaned forward and put her folded hands against her forehead. Rocket had, before anyone could stop him, curled up against the crook of Peter's neck, grasping strands of his hair in both fists and none of them had the heart to move them away. Mantic was now taking care of their route and the rest of the crew was sitting in the medbay uselessly. All they could do was wait, so they waited. 

The scanner had shown where the worst injuries were and how they should help. So now Peter was lying on some sort of waterbed, that was cooling his back wounds and the rest was already done. There is nothing you can do, Gamora. So calm down, she thought to herself. Her heart broke all over again when she thought about the scanner results—oh god the results—how is Peter going to deal with it, how is Rocket going to deal with it and his guilt complex, how—

They showed something was wrong, that was the most she allowed herself to think. They could fix this.

"When do you think they will be waking up?" Drax asked again. This had been the hundredth time at least. Groot just sighed very loudly. It had been a long while already, at least half a day but that was fine. They were fine. They would be fine. 

Both of them would be bickering in no time again like they always did. Yet deep down they knew, even after the physical wounds healed there would be a lot of work still to be done. The worst part was that both were fucked up but in different ways but both tied to the same triggers. Gamora knew that getting tortured like Peter had would fuck a person up immensely and watching someone else going through it while having to helplessly sit there and watch was nothing different.

"Let's hope soon,” she replied. She didn't really think it would all go to shit again so early


	2. Warm and safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rocket wakes up

It was silent. So unbearably silent. 

He could remember faces, real ugly ones, demanding something and pain...so much pain. He could remember how they had brought whips down on his back so hard he could hear them crack after they had already hit him. The punching, hitting and kicking and—oh, the goddamn waiting. 

Their words, even though he tried hard to forget them, he couldn't quite get some of them out of his head. They were blurred too and soon faded, but he knew they’d be back. He heard them every night, every time he felt slightly insecure before all of this happened anyway. They just hit the right spot. Knowing the truth instead of blatant lies was much harder. 

Had there been someone with him? He wasn't sure. What happened before all of that was blurry and mostly just...gone. What happened? Where was he?

All he could feel was soft, warm nothingness embracing him, taking all the pain away and just letting him float in peace, silence. The silence felt unnatural, but he was happy that it was silent. 

That meant no more pain. 

Peter floated around in black numbness for a while like that. Something was wrong, seriously wrong. A tiny voice in the back of his head said it, but he didn't want to listen. After however many fucking days it had been, there was finally no more pain. He could sleep and rest and relax. There was no one to hurt him. 

He didn't want to listen. 

The void got heavier gradually until he couldn't breathe. Suddenly, blinding pain hit him on all sides. Peter got ripped away from the void as if someone had doused him with cold water. His head seemed to explode, and every part of his body ached. He gasped for air, and his eyes shot open. 

Everything hurt. 

He wanted back into the black nothingness. At least nothing had been hurting him there. He felt like he was on fire and his skull felt as if it was being crushed from all sides. It was all too much. The warm touch at his side and the cold biting at the abused skin on his back. He hunched forward, sitting up and away from the pain. The movement caused even more pain to explode on his back but he didn't care. He just wanted it all to go away. 

There was too much touch, too much on him, too much sour, disinfectant he could smell from somewhere around him, and too many bright blinking lights blaring their way into his eyes. The silence was pressing down and him, threatening to crush him in its claws, devour him whole. 

It was fucking terrible. He had never felt this god damn bad before. Hurt, of course, in huge mounts of pain, sadly fucking yes, but this excrutiating amount of sheer agony? Never. This was something he would ever wish onto his worst enemies, which really said a lot for Peter, because he was one salty bitch. 

There still was no sound, so he couldn’t be there, so was he sleeping? In a coma? What was going on? 

The pain was blinding him, there was nothing except for white and red flashes in front of his eyes and the - now, moving - warmth at his side. Static started filling his head, pushing every other sensation away. Why couldn't this just stop? What had he ever done to deserve this? His head was reeling, his entire body felt as if it was filled with led, dragging him down. Was this hell? Did he die? It sure felt like it. 

Whatever he had done in the past it really couldn't have been that bad to warrant this. He was a bad person, a liar, a miserable captain, and all in all, a waste of fucking space. Those were all things he knew before and he tried to make up for it. Always. Of course, that wouldn't ever make it all better, but life really must hate him. 

Peter just wished he would die already.

***

Gamora was brutally ripped away from her short (and involuntary) nap by a scream. Not any scream. A guttural, terrified and so in pain it almost made her run for Godslayer if she didn’t know who it was that was screaming. 

"Peter!" Drax yelled, following her to their captain. He was writhing in pain, his back arching away from the cooling pad, screaming as loud as any of them had ever heard from him. Even Mantis had heard the sounds and came running. 

Everyone had gathered around, unsure what to do. It was selfish - she knew that - but Gamora just wanted him to stop, to just shut up already. Rocket had woken up at this point and nuzzled more fiercely into Peter's neck. None of them would mention it but they all heard the small, weak whimpers he let out.

"Peter, we are all here. You’re safe,” Gamora told him softly, gently pushing his chest back, so he wouldn't hurt his back more. 

He jerked away, his eyes shooting open. The moment Gamora saw the utterly tortured look on her face, a part of her layed down and died. His eyes were blown wide open with absolute terror. It was clear Peter was too far out of it to see with them. 

He just wouldn't stop screaming. 

Mantis put her hands gently against his temple. 

"I will calm him down," she explained. As soon as her hand made contact with his skin, she flinched in visible pain. Pain was slowly replaced with just pure sadness, that really shouldn't be on one of the only innocents on this ship. 

"I am Groot?" he asked with a tiny quivering voice. After a second of silence, in which Drax moved closer to Mantis' side as if to guard her, Gamora took Groot and let him cuddle against her shoulder. 

"He is...in so much pain. Bad...bad thoughts...lots of them…” she whispered. A few more seconds and the screams slowly lessened into soft gasps for air. 

Rocket wasn't letting go of Peter, only curled up further against him clutching strands of his hair, crying silently. The sight of it broke her heart. Drax, while Mantis was busy with Peter, had tried to touch him, to give him something that grounded him, but the raccoon flinched away everytime. This wasn't any different with Peter. 

Almost frantically Gamora was trying to give him something to focus on so that he would stop hyperventilating because at this point he would pass out soon if he didn't stop. 

"Come on, Peter. You´re okay now. We got you," Gamora said reassuringly, ignoring the others around her trying to help as well. She focused only on Peter and Peter only. If he could calm down and was fine, so could Rocket. She had hoped too soon. Tears rolled from his eyes onto the pillow and he curled in on Rocket, trying to get away from their touches. 

"Stop it!" Gamora snapped. Seeing Rocket flinch at the loud noise punched her right in the heart immediately after. 

"We should give them some space," Mantis whispered. 

Like magic, it worked. Slowly— getting better was a process, that was what they always said—both of their breathing patterns evened out. Quiet sniffling and slightly uneven breaths echoed through the room. They all unitedly breathed out. 

"How are we supposed to help?" Drax quietly asked. If he hadn't been quiet then god knows Gamora would have sucker-punched him. She was just about to reply when Rocket started mumbling something and carding his hands through his hair. 

Why did he accept Rockets touch but not hers? 

It stung a little ( a lot) but she knew why. Her hands were similar like the ones that hurt him, that dealt pain. Rocket had tiny hands that felt entirely different than any of the others (except for Groot, but he was still crying into her shoulder). It made sense. Right now, Peter would respond more to touch and smell. That gave her an idea. 

"I’m not sure but there is something we all could do," she said and stood up.

***

It was comfortable and warm. Those were the first things Rocket noticed. 

Then came the smell. It smelled like motor oil, leather and laserfun residue...like Peter. Letting himself drift in this comfortable bubble of safety, the mechanic took a deep breath, inhaling the scent. It was all around him. Smelling him so close, feeling his warmth meant that he was alive, his body was working and warm, that he was right here, that they were safe. 

No more pain, for neither of them. Slowly his eyes fluttered open. Light, soft blue light from above shone on Peter's face, highlighting every bruise, every bandage. From what Rocket could see, there were so many...too many. The single pink bandaid on the middle of his nose made him giggle a little. At least someone was able to make the situation a little lighter. 

His body felt heavy and tired, no matter the—probably very long time— he had slept. Headache as present as ever, Rocket just accepted that that was something he would have to deal with and not complain about. Peter must be in an entire new world of pain and his little boo-boos were nothing compared to that, so he had to get his shit together. Their captain had done everything for them, did and would. 

He truely complained and was there for all of them. Rocket had done jack shit for him. Everytime they lied to him...he looked first shocked, as if he was surprised that they knew about his deepest secrets. After time that had just turned into shame or some shit, as if Peter was ashamed to have those kinds of thoughts. Why would he ever think like that? Not that Rocket had ever done anything about convincing him otherwise...Guilt crawled up his throat , threatening to choke him. He let out another string of wet hiccups before putting his hands up to Peter's face. 

Before, he never really noticed how nice it felt to touch him. He broke out into a new wave of tears. He could really, truly touch him. It meant that they were absolutely safe. Once he had woken up to those animalistic, horrified and anguished screams and he couldn’t really remember what he had done to calm him down but it worked. 

It was so goddamn hard to get out of that fog but damn it Rocket had fought to stay lucid enough to protect him. Failed once (more than that, don’t lie to yourself) he didn't need to fail more. It was hard enough already. It felt great to be here, in the present, with Peter. Not being back there nor in the fog but honest to the stars reality. It felt as if he had walked across an entire sandplanet for days and days on end and had finally reached a spring with clear and cold water.

But they all knew this was just the calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! The wonderful c_c_cherry beta-ed this! Have you had a lovely day? Life is kind of crazy right now, so my upload schedule sucks ass. 
> 
> Join my discord server?  
> https://discord.gg/sf5jV9p


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